Sahel The Sandwing の小説・ストーリー

--- The creatures are not alive. Skeletons clad in sand-armor, their ribcages cradling pulsing violet fungi. They move in silence, scimitars of bone gleaming under the twin suns. Eden's crows dive, but the sand-armor dissolves them, acidic grains eating through feathers and flesh. "Run!" I snarl, but the city answers.

For this action, Sandy needs the best reply. *****

​The "Sahara Seed" did not grow with the patient, measured pace of an oak or a pine. Driven by the "Celestial Echo" and anchored in the "Negative Space" of the obsidian pillar, it expanded with the predatory speed of a crystal formation. Within seventy-two hours of the first sprout, the Eye of the Sahara was no longer a barren bullseye of sand and silica. It had become a Bioluminescent Jungle.

"Silly bird!" Logan laughed. The bird suddenly lowered its head. It then gave itself two mock slaps before making out a thing larger than itself. And then, finally, it re-enacted the defeated way it returned. "So something else came and beat you up after you won." The bird raised its head in surprise and nodded enthusiastically. "Okay, show me the beast. Let me see how big of a deal it was." Logan stepped onto the bird's back. The bird shrieked and took off. It changed its course sharply in its journey—apparently, the formation had made space and direction chaotic within the Dead Sand Sea. The bird, however, was quite the expert navigator.

Pelin seethed. The sand rumbled again beneath our feet, louder this time. “Now run!” I screamed, grabbing Pelin’s hand and clasping it tight. She didn’t hesitate anymore. We took off across the dunes, boots sinking into the shifting ground, breath ragged from the heat. Behind us, the sand cracked open with a deep, thunderous roar. Scorpio the massive scorpion emerged from the depths, crawling forward on its grotesque, skeletal limbs. Its long, spindly legs moved with a disturbing rhythm, each step sending a shiver down my spine. It didn’t attack right away, no, that would’ve been too merciful.

The stunt June and I pulled through earlier must have damaged the core engine inside my left airkicks. —uh-oh! Looks like Hale is now out of airkicks! The Rearguard is in trouble and the Golden Crows are down one player! I tried to regain my balance while in the air, which is really difficult considering only one of my airkicks is stable and the other pair is badly damaged. Still, I tried my best to get as close as possible to the action. I'm not about to sit out this one important game of my life. —and she recovers! Hale makes a desperate race to the action with her remaining airkicks power—

“She’s working too hard to breathe. We need oxygen and fluids, now.” Ofelia turned her head slightly, eyes unfocused. Her lips parted like she meant to say something—maybe my name, perhaps a curse at the fluorescent lighting—but all that came out was a wheeze. Then nothing. Her body swayed. Slumped. The carrier jostled as someone moved it away—rough hands, impersonal. I yowled in protest. The sound was raspy, my throat still sore from smoke and stress, but I couldn’t help it. She was right there. She needed me. I tried to press my face closer, pawing at the mesh with dull claws, ears pinned back as they lay her flat, and someone started barking orders.

It created a narrow choke point where the wind shrieked through broken window frames. The sound was high-pitched and relentless. Auditory texture: sharp, whistling, cutting through the thin air. The vibration of the wind rattled the loose glass in the frames above my head, a rhythmic clatter that masked the sound of fifty Sand-Eaters breathing in the dark. "Hold," I whispered into the comms. My own voice felt like grit in my throat. My jaw was locked, the masseter muscles bunching until my molars ached. The Sand-Eater Alpha crouched beside me. He licked his chops, a wet, repetitive sound. His yellow eyes were dilated, fixated on the horizon where a cloud of red dust rose into the atmosphere.

Alexander also rushed toward the island though he had no idea what was waiting for them. "It's too late!" added someone from the Chroma clan. Suddenly, the sand beneath their feet began to stir as if they had been swirled around by the wind. "Argh!" Chroma Stirling, who dashed furthest away, was the first to be affected. He was quickly enshrouded by the kinetic sand and crumpled to the ground with blood oozing from his orifices. Sheila, noticing the confused Alexander, explained, "The golden sandworm is a rare worm of the Grimalkin. Although small individually, they're formidable when attacking together. It went extinct a long time ago, so I'm surprised to see them again."

Sader spit out some blood, “I’m really disappointed,” Sagarus decided to give the defiant demon exactly what he was asking for. He went behind Sader and grabbed the second of his wings. The tormentor pulled on it, ripping it right off Sader’s back slowly and as much as it hurt, as badly as Sader wanted to scream, he made sure he didn’t, going as far as biting down on his tongue just so he wouldn’t scream. His second wing got ripped out from his back but it wasn’t enough to break Sader’s resilience.